


The Life I've Been Sold

by orphan_account



Category: American Horror Story: Murder House
Genre: Character Death, Other, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-11
Updated: 2016-03-11
Packaged: 2018-05-26 02:38:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 422
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6220372
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She had always lived there, loved there. And the House always wins.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Life I've Been Sold

**Author's Note:**

> Written for a kinkmeme fill, long forgotten. My two favorite characters, together forever.

   The night Constance Langdon died, she was sitting on her porch, blowing smoke between aching fingers and watching her house. It had settled in, these last few years, she thought. Like it was waiting for something.

  
   The end of the world, probably. It would be her, the house and cockroaches, and they’d all deserve each other.

  
   She could hear a car squealing around the corner, but Constance paid it no mind. This neighborhood had gone to shit faster than a starving rat, and there wasn’t any amount of neighborhood watches, or home and garden committee’s that would save it now. Weeds were growing through the cracks faster than they could stop them, and her house sat on the corner like a blight. Like a waste.

  
   She was grinding her cigarette out when the car rounded the corner. It was a beat up, ugly old thing, and driving like it was a bat out of hell. It was, Constance realized, as though underwater, going too fast. Too fast and at such an angle as to crash straight through her.

  
   No time to move, but enough time to realize she had no time to move.

  
   Then the car was crashing into her, hot and hard, immeasurably loud. She shrieked too, put up a good front of thrashing her legs and waving her arms, but Constance knew she was through. Her head felt swimmy, and she couldn’t really feel her legs at all anymore.

  
   All the years of aches and pains, and now to be the most frightened of the loss.

  
   She wondered if this was how Addy felt. She hoped not.

  
   God she hoped it hadn’t hurt this much for her.

  
   The car was backing up, pulling away. They were probably just going to leave her there. An accident of fate, and a life ill-led. Crushed on her porch, her cigarette probably still smoking.

  
   Well, she thought, as everything began to go dark. At least I didn’t die in that damned house.

  
:

  
   Constance woke up in a well-furnished room. It smelled sweet, but dark, like musty floorboards gone too long without polish. The curtains hung at an angle, enough to let the light in, but not so much as to blind her when she woke. She turned to the side, and her half-finished cigarette laid smoking in the ash-tray from her porch.

  
   She took it with shaking fingers, inhaling.

  
   Across from her, written on the mirror in lipstick, were the words ‘GOOD MORNING CONSTANCE’.

  
   And then she knew the house had made an exception.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Make an [exception](honeyedlion.tumblr.com) and request something.


End file.
